


Ghost Shift

by MiladyDragon



Series: Armageddon-Verse [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Armageddon-Verse, Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - Freeform, Ghosts, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyDragon/pseuds/MiladyDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The restless dead go on strike, cluttering up the hallways of the Armageddon Department...and crimping Death's naked time with Apocalypse, which makes Death a very cranky Horseman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Shift

**Author's Note:**

> It's another Armageddon-Verse story, one that I'd thought I'd already posted here. It was also written for last year's Long Live Ianto Bingo.

 

The first that Ianto knew there was anything wrong, he and Jack were in the broom closet on the 43rd floor of the Armageddon building, his mouth around Apocalypse’s cock, giving his lover all of his attention.

That was, until he felt a very cold touch on his shoulder, the chill penetrating through his shirt.

Ianto reared back, ignoring Jack’s moan of disappointment as he checked the room.  “Who touched me?” he demanded, standing and reaching for his scythe, all of his senses outstretched and checking his surroundings. 

There.                                                                                          

He swept the scythe out, the blade coming to rest against the rather insubstantial throat of a ghost, who had backed himself up into the corner of the room.

Needless to say, the ghost looked very surprised at finding himself on the receiving end of Death’s scythe.  “Whoa!” he said, throwing his transparent hands up in surrender.  “I was just enjoying the show, I swear!”

“Then why did you touch me?”  Ianto snapped, holding the scythe perfectly still.  “Were you looking to be Reaped?”

“No way!” the ghost denied.  “Once was more than enough!”

‘I think the better question,” Jack said, accompanied by the sound of his fly being zipped closed.  Ianto felt that was a distinctly sad little noise.  “What are you doing here in the first place?  And I don’t mean your watching us.  I can get voyeurism.  But ghosts don’t just show up in Armageddon Tower for no reason.”

The ghost grinned.  “Oh, that’s easy…all the restless dead are on strike.”

 

**********

 

“What do you mean, the restless dead are on strike?”

Ianto stood before Yvonne Hartman’s desk, staring down at the woman and clenching his scythe tightly.  He didn’t much care for her; she was just too cheerful to be working in the Ghosts and Hauntings Department.  He was technically her superior, since Death was in charge of…well, death.  He or his Angels had been responsible for Reaping the ghosts that were currently walking the halls of Armageddon, making nuisances of themselves. 

Yvonne shrugged.  “They want better working conditions – “

“What?”  Ianto growled.  “They’re the restless dead.  This is supposed to be a punishment!”

“Try telling them that.  Honestly, they don’t even drink coffee, how are they going to appreciate a coffee break?”

Death ground his teeth. This little crisis was taking away from his naked Apocalypse time, and that was guaranteed to make him a very unhappy boy.  “And what’s being done about it?”

“I’m trying to negotiate,” she answered, “but they don’t want to cooperate.  They keep going on about equal rights for all ghosts and getting vacation time.”

Ianto rolled his eyes.  “Do you know who’s in charge of this little mutiny?”

Yvonne nodded.  “Some guy named Henry Parker.  In fact, he won’t be too far away.”

“You bet I won’t be.”

Ianto turned, narrowly holding in the urge to swing his scythe and Reap the ghost standing behind him.  Henry Parker had been a kindly-looking man in life, and he still kept those characteristics, which did nothing to hide the smug look on his too-pale face.

“So,” Ianto drawled, “you’re the one giving the restless dead ideas?”

“I’m only telling them that they have rights like everyone else,” Parker replied. 

“You do know exactly why you’re all the restless dead, don’t you?”

“Sure we do,” the ghost answered.  “Doesn’t mean we should be treated like we don’t matter.”

Ianto stifled his sigh, instead favoring the dead man with a glare that would have had even Apocalypse quaking in his boots.  If the ghost could have gone paler, he would have.  “Then you realize you’re talking out of your arse.”

“We’ll see if you feel the same way when the entire dimension is filled with the dead.”

“And we’ll see,” Ianto countered, “when I recall all my Angels and we Reap all of you, all over again, and send you all straight to your own personal Hells.”

 

**********

 

“You can’t do that.”

Ianto glared at Rory Williams, Good’s personal Archangel, as the man stood at the table in Apocalypse’s  conference room, his arms crossed over the Roman armor he affected.  Usually, Death and Archangel got along quite swimmingly, but today was not one of those times.

“And why not?” he asked sharply.

“Evil would love it,” Lucy Saxon purred, her breasts almost spilling out of the barely-there red dress she wore.  Evil’s Demon Queen looked quite happy, sitting in her chair with her legs crossed, the slit in the aforementioned dress rucked up so high it was obvious she wasn’t wearing any underwear. 

“That’s the whole point,” Rory answered, his eyes narrowed.  “It would cause an imbalance in souls between Good and Evil, because quite a few of the restless dead could be redeemed if given a chance.”

Ianto was irritated.  This wasn’t how he’d wanted this day to go.  He’d planned a quickie with Apocalypse, then he’d had an intergalactic war in the Xerxes Galaxy that he and War had been planning on viewing for weeks now.  But no, he’d been interrupted by a voyeuristic ghost and now the halls were filling up with restless dead who didn’t want to go about their own business.

“At this point,” Death said, “I don’t think they much care.  They’re already in their own cultures’ versions of Purgatory, so they don’t think it could get any worse outside of their own personal Hells.”

Not every world had restless dead; but those that did, they were spirits who’d been neither Good nor Bad, and therefore had to prove themselves before being sent on. 

But this so-called strike was endangering what souls had been on their way to redemption.  Not to mention clogging up the gears in the Department.

And wrecking Ianto’s day.

“Their demands don’t make any sense,” Ianto scowled.   “And it’s not our fault they were consigned to being ghosts when they’d died.”

Rory looked at him sympathetically, and Ianto couldn’t tell if he felt grateful that the Archangel could understand the stress he was under, or furious for him daring to understand and not doing anything about it.  “I know,” he said.  “But we have to figure out a way to get them to accept their lot again, without endangering the Good/Evil balance.”

“I think Death’s just upset because one of the ghosts interrupted happy time between him and Apocalypse,” Lucy teased, uncrossing then re-crossing her legs a la Sharon Stone in “Basic Instinct.”  Ianto personally disliked the movie, but Jack did like it for some reason that he was unwilling to share.  And watching it usually led to sexytiems, so who was he to complain?

Rory’s eyes went wide.  “Bloody hells,” he swore. “I’m surprised you didn’t Reap them just on principle!”

Ianto smirked.  Now, this he knew Rory could relate to; his wife Amy, Good’s current PA, was one hot woman…in body, as well as temperament.   Not that he’d say so out loud, of course.

“Should you be saying words like that?” Lucy purred.

“Believe me,” the Archangel said, “deal with Good in one of his moods and you’ll be saying a lot worse.”

The Demon Queen laughed in a way that would have most mens’ toes curling.  Rory simply raised an eyebrow, apparently confident in his relationship with his wife and in his manhood.

“We need to get the restless dead back to what they’re supposed to be doing,” Ianto said, bringing the subject back to where it needed to be, “being restless and dead.  Their demands are absolutely ridiculous, but they aren’t seeing that because of one spirit.”

“Henry Parker,” Rory replied.

“Henry Parker,” Lucy purred, “is a soul that appears to be on his way to his personal Hell.  From what Harry’s told me, he might look like your favorite grandfather, but in life he was a pretty apathetic soul.  However, since becoming the restless dead, he’s proved to be quite a joker.  His best trick is what he calls the Pulse, where he stands in someone’s bedroom and fades in and out, like some sort of bizarre ghostly strobe light.  He’s a random haunter, too.  Started off with his eldest son, and then ended up frightening the housekeeper to death by turning his face inside out in the mirror she was cleaning in their mansion’s master bath.”

“Sounds like to me,” Ianto said, “that our Mr. Parker doesn’t want to go to Hell alone.”

“You know,” Lucy said, “if you simply Reaped him, then perhaps the other spirits will go back to their normal haunting patterns.  After all, if he’s already on his way to Evil, then it won’t matter if you send him on.”

Ianto had to admit, he rather liked that idea.

“And what happens if the restless dead following him decides to protest his second Reaping?” Rory pointed out.  “It could be an even worse mess than having ectoplasmic Peeping Toms in your bedroom.”

 _Or the broom closet_ , Ianto didn’t add.

“All right,” he did say, “it seems to me that we have to figure out a way to discredit Parker with his followers, in order to get them to go back to what they’re supposed to be doing.”

Both Archangel and Demon Queen looked at him.  “Sounds like you might have a plan.” Rory commented.

Ianto allowed a slow smirk to decorate his features.  “I think I just might.”

 

**********

 

Death called a meeting of the higher ups’ in the restless dead strike, and they were gathered in Apocalypse’s boardroom, along with Rory and Lucy as witnesses.  Yvonne Hartman was also there, looking put out; it was a pleasant change from that simpering smiling stuff she usually put on. 

Ianto himself sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled in front of him.   There were twenty of the dead in the room, along with Henry Parker himself, who was looking extremely smug.

Well, two could play at that game. 

He allowed his own smug smirk to creep across his lips, eyes staring directly at Parker.  At first, the ghost didn’t seem bothered; but then, he quickly became disconcerted, and refused to look at Death at all.  Good, because Ianto wanted him off balance.

A soft croak came from behind him; Myfanwy was on her perch, and Ianto knew that the vulture was an imposing sight sitting on her perch.  He’d asked to borrow her from Jack in order to add more to the meeting, so that the restless dead attending would know that Apocalypse was just as interested in the proceedings even though he could not attend.

Jack had actually wanted to, but since this had to do with Ianto’s own section he’d asked his lover to sit it out.  It had taken downright bribery – and tying the Celestial down to their bed – to keep him from showing up anyway.

“Now,” he began, “it’s come to my attention that you’re making certain demands that are apparently not at all useful to any of you, being dead.  I’d like to ask why.”

Henry Parker stepped forward, and Ianto didn’t miss the mischief in his very pale eyes.   “It’s the principle of the whole thing,” he answered.  “Everyone has rights but us, and we want to have them too.”

“So, this is the only reason you refuse to act in the way restless dead are required to act?”

“Damned right,” Parker answered.  The other spirits murmured their agreement.

“So, let me get this straight:  you’d rather risk your chance of redemption just to get a coffee break you’ll never be able to use?”

That didn’t seem to go down well with the other ghosts; they milled around, looking at each other, and Ianto wanted to grin.  He had them where he wanted them.

“We deserve to be treated fairly,” Parker snapped, “redemption or no.”

“But you’re not going to be redeemed, are you Henry?”  Ianto inquired.   “It seems you’ve been a bad boy.”

The ghost crossed his arms defiantly.  “I’m only trying to help my fellow restless dead, in getting things that they fully deserve.  What happens to me doesn’t matter.”

Rory made a scoffing sound; he also crossed his arms, and it looked far more intimidating with him than it did Parker.  Lucy gave a laugh that would have had several of the attending spirits drooling if they still had the ability to do so.

“Obviously that isn’t true,” Ianto smirked.  “If that was the case, then you’d be firmly on the side of Good.  And that can’t be the case, because if you were you wouldn’t be leading your fellow restless dead down the path toward Evil.”

The other ghosts in the room mumbled a bit louder.  “Hey,” one said, “you told us that leading us to equality was setting you on the path to your Just Reward.”

Ianto could hear the capitals in that sentence.  “Of course it is,” he drawled, “if your reward means going to Hell.”  Death leaned back in his chair.  There was a faint croaking, and with a whoosh Myfanwy landed on the polished wood beside him.  Ianto reached out, running a finger down the glossy black feathers of the vulture’s wings.   “And he’s taking you all with him.”

That wasn’t exactly true, but Ianto wasn’t going to elaborate.  Yes, if he decided to Reap them all over again, most of the souls in this room and taking place in this co-called strike would be going there, just on general principles since Death hated being made a fool of.  

“The road to your Hell is paved with good intentions,” Rory intoned, sounding so completely serious Ianto suddenly had no doubt as to why the man was Good’s Archangel.  It also made him less likely to give him grief about the armor.  Jack had once said that Rory wore it because Amy liked it, and Ianto figured there were worse reasons for something than it turning on your spouse.

After all, Death didn’t call Apocalypse ‘sir’ for nothing.

Lucy giggled.  “There are more fun ways of getting in,” she said.  “I’m sure Harry would be more than happy to let you know what they are.”

The majority of the ghosts didn’t seem to like that idea at all.

But, if Ianto hadn’t already been looking at Henry Parker, he would have missed the purely evil smirk that crossed the spirit’s pasty face.

_Very interesting…_

“Now,” he brought the attention back to himself, “I’m quite certain Mr. Parker didn’t fully explain the consequences of this mini rebellion.  Personally, I’ve already Reaped you all once and I’d rather not do it again.”  That also didn’t go over well.  “Why don’t we just forget this and you can all go back to trying to earn your ways back into Redemption?  Or you can continue on in this path and find yourselves permanent residents of whatever Hell you believe in.”

“If we do,” one the restless dead – a squirrely little man Ianto didn’t have a name for – raised his hand for attention, “can we start at where we left off?”

“No,” Ianto intoned, using his best Death voice.  “You’ve all managed to take a single major step toward Evil by going against the rules for the restless dead.  So you all start completely over.”

“Of course,” Lucy butted in, “if you were already on the fast track to a Hell, then you’ve taken a major step forward.  Congratulations!”  She clapped her hands, looking very happy indeed.

“These are your choices.”  Death stood, and Myfanwy croaked and hopped up onto his shoulder.  The scythe came out, the better to look intimidating.  “You continue to follow Mr. Parker in his attempt to send you all straight to hell…or you give up this strike and work on Redemption.  Which is it going to be?”

 

**********

 

Apocalypse rolled his eyes.   “And you think Evil was behind our little strike to begin with?”

Ianto shrugged.  “I’ve got no proof, of course.  But certain reactions by the deceased Mr. Parker led me to that conclusion.”

They were in Jack’s office, where Ianto was making his report.  He leaned against the large wooden desk, and his boss was staring up at him from his very comfortable – and often broken, usually in the throes of passion – chair.  A warm hand was rested on his thigh, and Ianto was certainly glad that his lover didn’t take anyone else’s reports in the same manner. 

“It’s certainly something he’d do,” Apocalypse answered.  “Trying to upset the balance of souls in the Multiverse.  Good job at getting the restless dead back to restlessness.”

“Just doing my job, sir.”

“You know what calling me ‘sir’ does to me,” Jack growled, pulling Ianto down to straddle his lap.

A knowing smile crossed Death’s face.  “Do I…sir?”

Apocalypse practically jerked Ianto forward, kissing him roughly. 

Ah, yes…the perfect way to end a perfectly bitchy day…

“Damn!” a voice came out of nowhere, “you two are hot!”

Ianto didn’t even turn. 

The sound of a dead soul being Reaped a second time couldn’t even be heard over the rustling of clothes and the moaning going on in Apocalypse’s chair.

 


End file.
